Goodbye, Memories

Dear Memories of East Gate Drive,
Moving. seems strange, does it not? Yet here I am, packing my things in boxes. the home that i've known for so long will soon not be my home ever again.
Not the lavender walls, not the papasan chair, my books will never line the room like a cosy blanket wrapped around your shoulders in winter. Thats the room where I first discovered how terrible death could be. I laid there and had my first night terrors in that bed, pretending to see shapes in the ceiling, just to distract myself. This is the place where I wrote my first novel and where I brought my first date. I cried the tears of the heartbroken here and where i discovered how amazing joy could feel.
There is the family room where my favorite plaid couch sits.
 Its the house that I grew up in.
so goodbye, Memories, I hope you won't haunt me when I lay at night in my little wooden room in tennessee.
Rest well,
Ren